


no return

by no_reservations



Series: a slow corruption [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_reservations/pseuds/no_reservations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><p>Harry feels a change coming over him, one that should probably be giving him cause to worry. That is, if he could bring himself to care.</p><p> </p><p>Additional warnings same as before, plus some bloodplay and a dash of het-sex.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	no return

 

 

 

"So she's having a party tonight, it's gonna be off the hook," his friend was saying to the group sprawled out on blankets in the park.

 

Harry flicked his knife open and closed, a recent purchase. It had quickly become habit, like the strip of leather bound tightly to his wrist. If his friends had noticed the change, they didn't let him know. He scraped the blade against his wrist as they talked.

 

Some girl was next to him, some friend of a friend of his inner circle. She was trying to get his attention, but his mind was elsewhere. He looked up as she nudged his arm, asking about his knife. Her eyes were blue and he grinned at her, the blush on her face telling him she was reading something into it.

 

He continued to worry the knife against his arm, just a teasing brush, not enough to break the skin. She leaned in, stroking his hair back in place. He brought the knife up to stroke the flat of it against her face. She laughed and closed her eyes.

 

 

The party was wild, just like his friend had said. There was booze and more booze and drinking games and drunken dancing – the guests all underage. Yet he found himself out back, a plastic cup in his hand and the knife in the other. He was trying to enjoy himself, he really was, but it all just felt so hollow. Downing his cup he tossed it aside and when he looked up again the girl was beside him.

 

"Hey," she said, her voice laced with alcohol. She held out a pack of cigarettes and he took one, leaning in to let her light it. They smoked in silence watching the wasted people dancing in the backyard, and he could feel her gaze on him even as he stared ahead. Grinding out the butt, he finally looked back at her. She smiled around the last toke of her cigarette.

 

He pulled her up by the wrist, dragging her towards the house as she giggled. They climbed the stairs and scouted for a free room. A few knocks and looks later, they found an empty one. It was disconcertingly pink, walls covered with posters of childish looking popstars. The girl laughed again as she took it in and Harry locked the door.

 

He pushed her onto the bed, and she slid against the sheets, pulling off her top as she drew her legs up in permission. Harry felt underneath her skirt, tugging her underwear off roughly and pushing a finger inside. She was already wet for him.

 

She pulled feebly at his jeans and he unzipped them, pulling them off along with his underwear. Her eyes slitted to a near close as she writhed wantonly on the bed before him, and Harry felt his arousal leaving him. He got the condom out anyway, moving on top of her.

 

A cry escaped her as he pushed his fingers inside, moving them forcefully and stroking his thumb against her clit. She clenched around him, her hands twisting in the sheets. He pushed in all four, the feel of her straining walls tight against his hand.

 

He pulled the condom from the wrapper, at least partially aroused. Working himself while he fondled a breast, he pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. Her gasp of pain sent a shot of arousal to his groin. Another pinch and a roll, and she let out another cry – too drunk to find it anything but hot.

 

He sheathed himself and pushed in, her moan and clench pulling blood to his dick. She threw her head back as he drove into her, crying out to the ceiling. Harry frowned down at the girl, a right fit specimen. Her breasts were full, bouncing with each thrust. Her face sweet. The hair long. He ran his hand through her locks as he tried to get into the moment.

 

Yet it slid from his grasp just like her silky hair. She continued to pant and mewl to his cock, and his hand wandered from her hair to her neck. It seemed to clamp down on her tender throat on its own volition and she let out a chocked gasp, blinking up at him.

 

An odd thought ran through him as he stared down at her. He realized suddenly that he wanted to hurt her. The thought finally sent a real spark of need to his groin, and he let out a groan as he thrust in again.

 

But the thought threw him, disturbed by himself – by his desire, so he released his hand again quickly. The girl smiled up a him, oblivious of where his thoughts had led him, and she only adjusted her legs around his waist, beckoning for him to continue.

 

He fisted her hair again, giving a good yank as he started to pound into her again briskly, and she let out a moan that surely traveled beyond the door. Her eyes were closed, her legs tight around him as she met each of his thrusts. And Harry looked at her face as he warred with himself, wondering when he'd gotten so rough. When he had started to enjoy it.

 

 

Walking the halls he felt in a bit of a daze – numb. But he could still feel the looks his classmates were shooting him, and hear their whispers as he passed. Words traveled fast in such a small place, especially if they were worth sharing. And apparently what had happened at that party was worth every syllable.

 

He had excused himself quickly afterwards, disgusted with himself, his actions. He was lucky the girl wasn't pressing charges, claiming he was a sicko that had forced himself on her. Instead she'd apparently gone around after telling all her friends what an amazing lay he was, or whatever, if the interested stares he was receiving were anything to go by.

 

He'd even caught a few older girls checking him out, eyes darting to his groin and back to his face, not even trying to hide it. Dodging them he escaped into the toilet, banging the stall door shut as he rummaged through his backpack for his flask, unscrewing the top and taking a deep pull.

 

The liquor glowed all the way to his stomach and he let out a shaky exhale. It steeled him for having to go back out there and face the rest of the day and their stares, and suddenly he felt disgusted with them as well. With this place.

 

 

Walking home, he pulled out the crumbled pack he'd swiped from the girl at the party and shook out a cigarette. The smoke burned as it entered his lungs, and his hand trembled a bit as he brought it back down. He frowned down at it, but brought it back up to his lips again anyway. It wouldn't do, and he knew the consequences, but right now it felt good, justified. The little death.

 

He stumbled along, lost in thought and eyes on the cracks in the pavement. It had been over two months since he'd last seen them. Or should he say, since his last kidnapping. And he should be glad, maybe they had lost interest. Or the law had finally caught up with their sad break-in attempts and locked them up for good.

 

And he should be glad... but somehow he just felt hollow. Everything else just seemed to be a blur around him, the days passing in an achingly slow monotony. It felt heavy, like walking up a barren sand dune, each step a struggle with no end in sight. He could feel himself slowly being pulled down by the futility, slipping, if the cancer stick in his hand was any indication. There'd just be another dune on the other side, so really what was the point?

 

Taking another drag, he tossed the butt before him and crushed it underfoot as he passed. He was feeling through his bag looking for his gum when his hand brushed his flask again, and he quickly looked around the street before darting behind a tree and unscrewed it. As he leaned into the rough bark and emptied it, he pitied that these things held so little. Shoving it back into his pack he withdrew a piece of gum instead and stuffed it into his mouth.

 

His gaze was on the pavement as he continued on his way, chewing the gum in frustrated jerks. Another afternoon of an empty house awaited him, hours filled with getting his homework scribbled out as quickly as possible to a TV turned up way too loud.

 

He drew a hand through his curls in agitation, trying to keep his head in the game. He was cracking, he knew, but he just couldn't seem to get himself to care anymore. Withdrawing his knife he flicked it open and closed in the palm of his hand, hidden underneath his jacket sleeve. He almost dropped it when a car honked next to him.

 

Looking up, he found himself staring back at his startled face reflected in a tinted window. It rolled down slowly and he was met with Zayn's blissed out grin. Louis leaned over him, giving him the same smile as he spoke, "Hey there Harry love, care for a ride?"

 

He may have been a little too quick at reaching for the door handle. But as he slipped into the backseat and Zayn passed him his blunt, it felt like everything was suddenly alright again. Like a haze had been lifted, only to be replaced by another.

 

 

They'd gone through a drive-through of all places; Louis asking him what he wanted as Harry leaned through the front seats, scanning the menu. The boys had laughed at his eagerness, but hey, it had been years since he'd been to a fast-food joint, his mum disapproving at the lack of nutritional value and questionable hygiene. But the strawberry milkshake had felt like nostalgic heaven on his tongue, not matter how impossible it was to clean the machine.

 

After they'd driven aimlessly around town before heading off to the woods, pulling off in the middle of nowhere. Zayn had set up the cans with another joint dangling from his lips, and Louis had broken the seal on a bottle of jack before getting out his guns.

 

Standing on either side of him, they'd chuckled at his measly first attempts. His arm had shook at the recoil, not expecting it to have such a kick. They never showed you that in the movies. Or how the strain of it wasn't relaxing at all, instead each shot fired seemed to make his muscles tense up more, the blast ringing in his ear even with the earplugs.

 

Louis had taken the gun from him to reload it, passing him the bottle instead. He'd taken a deep swig as he watched the boy go at it, cans flying off the railing in a quick succession. Louis had smirked at him, jokingly blowing at his gun and given him a wink. Harry had found himself staring at his face for probably a bit too long.

 

The afternoon had rolled on with a gentle ease. He'd shown them his knife and the boys had laughed, Zayn clapping him on the shoulder in approval. They'd taken pulls from the bottle as Louis drove them, and he'd reached for it as well, taking a long swallow as he steered with his left.

 

The sight of their driver drinking probably should have sent alarm bells off in Harry's mind, but it somehow was okay, because he was just along for the ride. It all didn't feel real somehow, it just felt good. He had relaxed into the backseat, wondering why he'd ever been so scared of them. They weren't that bad really. He almost felt like he could trust them now. Looking back, he probably should have laughed at his naivety.

 

 

"Hmm, what about him?" Louis' voice brought him back out of the slumber he didn't know he'd fallen into. He rubbed at his eyes as he looked outside the window, noting it was close to dusk.

 

They were trailing down a rural road devoid of sidewalks, the houses far between. A boy was walking away from them while shouldering his backpack and quickening his pace.

 

"Hmm, don't know, looks a bit skinny. Hazza, what do you think?" Zayn smiled back at him, and Harry didn't know if he liked the new nickname.

 

He looked at the boy, watching him shove a hand through his blonde hair. "What about him?" he said a bit lamely, not really catching on.

 

Louis let out a laugh, "Yes or no love, don't make us flip a coin."

 

Harry bit at his lip, not liking where this was going. But something in Louis' tone let him know this was out of his control either way. "Yes?" he squeaked, hoping he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.

 

"Alright, that's decided then." Louis laughed again as he sped up, and Zayn tossed something into his lap. Harry looked down at it, making out the black fabric of a ski mask. Oh shit.

 

 

It happened in a blur, like it always did with them. In the end Harry didn't even need the mask, the boys were so fast he didn't think the blonde even saw. He was in the trunk now, knocked out with whatever Zayn had laced the cloth with.

 

Harry felt a tremble go through him as he sat in the backseat, staring at the woods shooting by. He'd been a fool to let himself believe, even for one second. Mad at himself for thinking that this was okay. That they weren't just a bunch of lunatics capable of snapping at any moment. And here he'd been going around, scoffing at all the boring people in his school, secretly feeling better than them because he'd been part of something else. And of what? Another kidnapping? What the fuck were they going to do to the poor kid?

 

His mind whirled, looking for a way out, but finding none except for flinging himself out of the moving car and stumbling aimlessly through endless forest. Plus that would mean leaving that boy behind in the trunk, the one he had carelessly condemned. He had only himself to blame for this mess.

 

Looking up he found Louis watching him through the rear-view mirror, a calculating look in his eyes. "Zayn," he spoke, "think Harry there needs another smoke."

 

Harry wanted to decline, he really did. But he found himself accepting it anyway when it was offered, taking a deep pull and waiting for the drug to whittle away at his troubled mind.

 

 

"Oi, he's quite the screamer isn't he?" Zayn chuckled out as he prepped something on the countertop of the trailer, shooting the boy a glance. They had stripped him down to his boxers, as well as blindfolded, bound and gagged him, but he was still putting up quite a fight. With the chair at least.

 

"Ugh, who knew gags were so inefficient. You weren't so loud," Louis complained and Harry shifted nervously on the bench. The boy's reaction seemed entirely justified. Had he... had he really reacted so differently?

 

"Give him something to shut up already, I can't take much more of this," Louis was saying and Harry's eyes shifted to the spoon in the boy's hand, a lighter underneath it.

 

"Already on it boss," Zayn let out with a laugh as he dropped the lighter and took out a syringe, pulling whatever was on that spoon into it. He gave it a tap with his nail before advancing on the boy, holding his bound arm steady.

 

The blonde gave out another shriek behind his gag as he felt the hold on him.

 

"Man, this boy's got some puny veins." Zayn grinned at him, and Louis gave him a nudge. Harry got up a bit unsteadily, making his way to the captive. Zayn motioned to his belt, and it took him a moment to get his meaning.

 

Swallowing, he undid the clasp and pulled it out of his belt-loops, before slinging it around the boy's bicep. He could feel the boy trembling underneath his touch. Pulling it tight and slotting the buckle in place, the veins on his arm sprung up at the loss of circulation. Tears seemed to spring up in Harry's eyes at the same moment.

 

Zayn gave him a pat on the shoulder, before leaning down and inserting the needle with an agile stroke. He squeeze the liquid in and undid the belt again, to the boy's shocked sigh before he went still.

 

"Ahh, much better." Louis smirked at them, and Harry could only stare, incredulity in his eyes. "Ah, don't worry, there's more where that came from."

 

"Wha... what? No," he stammered, looking at the two of them. "I... I think I should be getting back now." He glanced at the door to the trailer; home had never felt so far away.

 

Zayn let out a laugh at this, already back at the counter. "Don't worry Hazz, I've got something different for you. Wouldn't be any fun if we're all on the same thing."

 

 

Speed? X? Coke? Harry didn't really know, it wasn't like he was an expert with these things. Whatever it was, it was an upper, one that made him bright awake, and bossy, and incredibly horny.

 

The other boys seemed to have taken the same hit which was just a recipe for disaster. They'd already broken their paltry glassware assortment when Harry had slammed Louis against the counter in the midst of some play-fighting that quickly escalated. And the retro TV when Zayn had gotten jealous. It was probably a good thing that the guns were locked in the trunk.

 

He had both of them pinned on the couch now, and they grinned back at him with matching mischief, when a sigh from the corner interrupted them.

 

"Oh right," Louis laughed out, "Almost forgot about our little one."

 

Harry glanced up at the boy, still bound and gagged, and riding the tail end of his high. "Think he needs to taste some of this... " He smirked down at them, not quite sure what he was referring to in his high.

 

"Hmmm.... " Louis agreed in approval. Zayn quirked an eyebrow at him with a smile.

 

He got up off the couch and released them, giving them both a hand to stumble up.

 

Zayn ambled over to the counter to prep something as Harry slunk down in front of the blonde, running his hands over his thighs. The boy squirmed under his touch, but his boxer were tented already, the drugs having done their work.

 

He gaze at his crotch, abruptly overcome with the urge to touch it, to rub him to hardness. And some part of him was confused with himself. The boy was bound and gagged, kidnapped, and here he was thinking about touching him. But he was also here right now, locked in this blurry bubble that was the trailer, that was Louis and Zayn, and whatever sickness that encapsuled them. So he reached out, squeezing the boy's cock through the fabric.

 

The blonde gave out a whine behind his gag and tore at his restraints while he helplessly thrust into his hand. Harry couldn't keep the grin from blossoming on his face.

 

Cool steel nudged at his arm and he looked up to find Louis holding his knife out to him. He took it, flicking it open – the sound soothing to his ears. He reached out with it, tracing it over the boy's exposed torso, relishing in how he shivered beneath it. He wanted... oh he wanted. Harry stood up abruptly, withdrawing his hand and flicking the blade closed with a sharp snap.

 

Louis just stepped in to nuzzle at his neck, reaching down to snap the blade back open, and Harry let him. Let him suck at his skin, and let him trail a hand down to Harry's own groin. He let out a moan as the boy rubbed against his dick, half-hard against his hand.

 

He slitted his eyes open to watch Zayn crouching down and injecting the boy with something else. The blonde let out a sigh and writhed on the chair, his erection pressing against his underwear.

 

"Come on, I know you want to," Louis whispered into his ear, guiding the knife in his hand towards the boy. And Harry did want, he wanted so much. To know what it felt like to slice the blade through that pale flesh. And see the blood flow.

 

He leaned down again, one hand on the boy's straining cock and the other holding the knife underneath his nipple. Just a little bit of pressure as he pressed it in, a shallow swipe, but it took.

 

A welt of red appeared and a few drops of blood fell from the wound, and the boy let out a cry. He looked at his face and suddenly needed more. So he brought the blade up and ran it underneath the gag, slicing through it with a quick flick.

 

He pulled it free and the boy's lips were red and swollen, the edges bruised from the fabric. He tossed it aside with his knife and traced along those lips instead. The boy shivered beneath him. And Harry felt a surge of thrill.

 

He pulled at the boy's boxers, needing to free his cock as well. It felt full and heavy in his hand as he grasped it, the skin soft and with a give, unlike the hardness underneath. He slid his hand up and down, dry, rubbing along the sensitive skin. And the boy moaned underneath him, disconnecting from his fear as the drugs coursed through him.

 

Harry placed the blade again, drawing deeper this time in tandem with a pump of the blonde's cock, and the boy shuddered against him. He felt the same shudder run through him as he continued to work him, slicing the blade down again.

 

It was heaven, this kind of control. He reveled in it, sighing out loud as he felt a mouth on his nape.

 

"Knew I had pegged you right love," Louis murmured into his neck, and Harry let his eyes fall shut to the feel of a mouth on his neck. But the boy underneath him squirmed in his still hand, so he opened them again to continue his work.

 

Zayn came to kneel down beside him, mouthing on his neck on the other side as Louis' hand found its way into his jeans, clasping around his cock. He let out a hoarse breath at the feeling, continuing to jerk the boy off just like he was being jerked; the knife in his hand running over that pale flesh, intent on mixing pain with pleasure.

 

The boy quaked beneath him, letting out quick gasps as he got close and his skin took on a sheen of sweat. And as Harry brought the knife down again for another slice, the blonde seized up beneath him and released, the sound being torn from him closer to one of anguish.

 

Harry looked on in fascination as his own hand went to rub the boy's come over his chest, mixing it with the blood from the cuts. The blonde let out chocked cries at the sting, and it was just enough. Just enough to bring Harry over the edge.

 

A chuckle was in his ear as he threw his head back with a groan, and he leaned towards it.

 

 

They drove him home the next day like they always did, after dropping off the boy of course. They'd left him blindfolded the entire time, and as they sped away Harry watched him tearing it off and blinking at his surroundings in a daze.

 

Harry wasn't proud of what he did, but he also couldn't deny the way it had felt. The thrill, the control, the feeling of being part of something wicked. To be part of this little gang.

 

"Wow, is that your mum Hazz? She's right fit." Zayn let out a whistle from the backseat and Harry looked up startled, unaware that they'd already arrived. His mum was standing in the entryway, shooting a worried look at the car.

 

"You're a lucky man Harry love," Louis joined in after ducking down to glance out of the passenger-side window.

 

"Yeah, except for the fact that she's, oh, my mum." Harry suppressed an eye-roll and grabbed his bag from the floor.

 

"Well, best not keep her waiting, she doesn't look too happy. But you might have to invite us over for tea sometime, so we can introduce ourselves." Louis cocked a grin, before grabbing him by his collar and giving him a smack on the lips. Zayn pulled him back and gave him one upside-down, and Harry let out a laugh as he all but slid between the seats.

 

"Alright, off you get," Zayn laughed at him as he pushed him up and out the door. Harry stumbled out of the car, giving them a wave as they sped off.

 

 

"Where have you been? Who were those boys?" were the first words out of his mother's mouth. She looked tired and worried, and suddenly a little old as she stood there before him.

 

"Friends," he replied tersely, brushing past her as he made his way inside. As he climbed the stairs and ignored her other questions, the hand in his coat pocket fondled his knife.

 

 

 


End file.
